


“Trust me, baby.”

by 70procent



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22282369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/70procent/pseuds/70procent
Summary: Lydia's life is pretty much normal now. She has the will to live and life's going alright. She also might've gotten a boyfriend... And it's... Two years since she and Beetlejuice had been like peas in a pod.  Two years since she'd killed him. Two years since they scared people. Two years since she got visible. It has gone two years, and she still misses him.
Relationships: Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz, Lydia Deetz/Original Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This story isn't beta'd by anyone, not even me. Just written then posted here. Now you know. I'll add tags as I move on with the story. Peace out!

Lydia missed BJ a lot. She missed his eyes, his laugh, the way the tips of his hair grew yellow when he was about to scare someone. She even missed his awful stench, the smell of rotting flesh and old wood at the same time. She also longed to pet that little patch of moss that grew on his left cheek.

Two years Lydia had been living her now normal life all dandy like. Her real dad had finally opened up and talked about how he loved his deceased wife, Lydia and he had preserved every single memory in some way or another. There was a whole journal in the bookshelf with pictures, drawings and notes. There where a painting in the hallway to her room of her mom and Lydia. Although somewhat abstract and slightly disliked by Dalia.

Dalia had moved on to coach someone else and moved in for real. Charles and Dalia were a couple and Lydia was very happy to be on another floor on the other side of the house during evenings. And while Lydia and Dalia didn’t exactly see eye to eye on everything, they both had come to respect each other. The garden was also now decorated with Dalia’s confusing but awful distorted art that was a mix between twisted gothic vampy-style and the frightful peace inside Bob Ross’ head.

The only un-normal and still most normal in Lydia’s life were her ghost-parents. Barbara and Adam still built their models in the attic and waved her goodbye every morning before school. They listened to her and gave her space. She figured they would’ve been the best parents ever if they’d still been alive. They had been overly protective when she brought James home for the first time. Not that it had meant anything. 

James had looked constipated all afternoon, his eyes darting around like little cockroaches, and his laugh had been slightly forced. While watching a horror movie at each end of the couch he had thrown looks her way every minute or so. She figured it was because he wasn’t as a huge fan of the strange and morbid themes of the movie, or he was scared. His fingers had found Lydia’s and he’d slid his warm palm up her arm. In a matter of seconds he was closer to her than anyone had been before.

Lydia’s head was swimming by his soft breath. A few of his long locks had broken free from the bun he’d done on top of his head. He was lucky they’d reached a wall by the time he bent down to her as her legs suddenly were made of mush. When his lips met hers she couldn’t think, the only known feelings was the slow warmth that travelled from her stomach to her arms and legs, the prickling in her lips as they switched angles with their heads and the slightly painful clash of teeth now and then. 

James wasn’t the most skilled kisser, even as unexperienced Lydia was, she could tell. He was slightly too quick with his tongue and his hands lived their own life somewhere. Still, Lydia melted against him. 

Both wore black clothing and they magically fell of them. Her bed was unmade but James only pushed away everything from it and crawled after Lydia onto it. Hands fumbled with her underwear and there were kisses along her neck, she mewled and gasped. Then after a quick rip of foil package and a condom rolled on he entered her. She made a surprised sound.

James stopped. “I’m not hurting you? Am I?”

She shook her head. There was barely any stretch and the condom made everything slick and pain free.  
James smiled and started a slow rhythm. It wasn’t always on beat but it made Lydia build after a while. James’s fingers petted her nipples, her hair and her legs. They made up for the inexperience he had.

The closer she was coming, the more filthy things she whispered in his ear. He grunted and started to slam into her. Not really what she wanted but it did the trick.

“Make me come, please“, Lydia asked.

And then--- then. James made a sound. 

A sound that took her back out on the roof that summer two years ago. That sound that He had made when she’d been teasing Him by saying His name twice instead of thrice repeatedly. That raspy tone when he’d offered to kill her dad.

James looked down at her, and all Lydia could see were Beetlejuice’s eyes begging her to say it three times in a row.

“I’ll make you come.” Then, James growled in her ear. “Trust me, baby.”

And she came with the memory of a ghost in her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

James snored as he slept beside her. His brown hair flung over his face. He was a steamroller while sleeping. Twice he’d woken her by turning himself over on top of her.

Her head was in a weird mix of overthinking and shutdown, jumping between thoughts like a broken record.

James moved and gathered the duvet all to himself. It didn’t matter, she was too hot anyway. She regarded his bony knee that stuck out beside her. James had been a friend for about a year. He was nice, reasonably good looking, clever, funny and absolutely refused to go on a ghost-hunt in the forest. He dressed like a dork but always twisted it up by an interesting item. A conversation starter, he’d winked when she’d asked about it.

She liked him. A lot.

Yet, the first time they’d sex she’d fuck it up by thinking about a dead man. A damned demon that had made her life a pure joy during a couple of days only to green card himself via her into the living world. What would had happened if she hadn’t killed him? 

Lydia threw herself from the bed and looked out the window. No idea to think about a dead guy now. She was supposed to be happy. She had everything she could ask for; a family, a cat, fairly good grades, an extra job at the cinema and now a… boyfriend? Could she call James that?

She was not about thinking of a life with a certain demon roaming around causing havoc. 

A week passed before Lydia and James were alone again. They were kissing. Once again Lydia though he was too rushed, not controlled enough. His eagerness was more baffling than erotic. His knees almost crushed her hip as he pushed her down. As his hands found themselves inside her clothes, she closed her eyes and just felt. Cut nails tickled her skin and his hair fell onto her face. She brushed it away with a quick hand then pressed her lips back to make him slow down. For goodness sake, she was into it, but they needn’t rush. 

Unfortunately, James didn’t take the hint and went even quicker on her. In a matter of seconds all clothes were on the floor and he was inside her.

James kissed her as he left an hour later. This evening had gone well, she didn’t come per se, but after James had been working on her for too long it felt like there was too much pressure, she’d faked it. She had no idea if James’d bought it, but har thoughts had started to wander and she was not going to think about a dead man while having sex!

Lydia watched James get into his rusty car and back out of the driveway. In a way she thought it was nice to be alone right now. In another way, not so nice. During the week she’d been wondering and thinking too much about Beetlejuice anyway. Toying with the idea of calling his name three times again. A whole evening she’d spent outside on the roof where she’d met him, just conjuring several alternative universes in her mind before Adam had stuck his head out the window and asked her to come inside. That was when the weather registered for her.

She’d been soaked in summer rain and was dripping as she climbed in through the window.

“What’s wrong, Lydia?” Adam had asked carefully.

She’d smiled at him. “Nothing, I was just lost in thought.”

He’d studied her and let her run along to change. Lydia later found him and Barbara in the attic painting a new model and sat quietly in a padded armchair until bedtime. She wondered what life would be with Him around.

The third and fourth time with James Lydia came, but only barely. He was still chaotic in his foreplay and while he was the nicest, very clever and most considerate human being she’d ever met, he wasn’t as sharp in bed. He was safe, repetitive even after just a handful of times they’d had sex, and not very in control of either himself or her.

She sighed and threw her head back. Their lips separated with a sloppy smack. James tried to follow her, but she pushed him away, gently. His blue deer-eyes stared at her in bewilderment, not quite comprehending why she’d stopped.

“James, can we try something?” She smiled shyly, or at least what she’d hoped to communicate shyness.

He blinked a few times and sat back on his heels between her legs. They were once again on her bed.  
“Uh, yeah sure. Depends on what you want to try though?” He seemed a bit anxious as well as a bit interested. His tented boxers hadn’t gone down and Lydia took that as a positive sign. 

She fluttered her eyelashes, going for the nervous look. “Can you-” she swallowed. “Can we try the thing when you maybe hold me down and you know…”

Lydia trailed off when she saw his face. James had a confused wrinkled look which was gone in a flash.

“We can try. Can’t promise I’ll be good though,” he laughs and gingerly presses her wrist against the mattress. 

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Lydia says and winks.

James was a disaster. His definition of rough meant even more uncoordinated knees and elbows, and not the good kind of bruises. He had tried to hold her down, but his grip had slipped, and he fell headfirst onto Lydia’s face. No broken nose but a blue cheek and a lot of hair in her eyes.

Needless to say, she didn’t orgasm that evening either. Instead James had run off to the kitchen and retrieved a bag of frozen vegetables. Then doted on her until Charles and Dalia came home.

Lydia wouldn’t have minded her camera so that she could’ve captured the shocked faces of her father and her stepmother.

“What has happened?” Charles asked as he removed the slowly melting bag. Then he threw a hateful look towards James. “Did he hit you?”

“No, dad. It was an accident. We…” Her face turned red and she quickly tried to come up with something, but James must’ve collided with her harder than expected because she couldn’t improvise anything. Actually, she couldn’t get anything out of her until she started to pull at the lace on her dress. “… we were kissing, and one thing led to another and James slipped and fell on me and it hurt and-”

There was a huge silence when she cut off. Charles looked as uncomfortable as ever and Dalia seemed somewhat proud but also a bit disturbed as she eyed James up and down indiscreetly. 

Charles cleared his throat. “So, it was an accident while you were…”

“Trying to have sex,” Lydia finished. 

Suddenly her dad kind of shuffled on the spot and his back straightened while scanning everywhere without even looking aat Lydia or James. “Well, accidents happen I guess.”

The two next coming weeks Lydia and James didn’t have time for each other. Even though a huge box of condoms had suddenly appeared in her nightstand, Lydia was somewhat happy not to have sex with James. She had concluded that she wasn’t exactly attracted to James with his skinny body and long hair. He was charming and quirky and terribly sweet. He texted every evening before falling asleep and every morning when he woke up. He held her hand while they walked in the park for Lydia to take a few pictures. He held a flower down for her to avoid getting it in the shot as she contrasted a dead tree with a white dog on a leash to a grey man.

She loved him. That was certain as every cell in her body smiled as they hung out.

Still, it wasn’t as strong as a certain mossy dead guy had made her whole body radiate as he made her laugh. She missed Beetlejuice terribly. She missed that one evening when the girl scout had rung the bell and they had practically scared the young girl to death. Lydia missed how Beetlejuice had made fear gnaw at the edges and how the excitement had been constantly flowing in the air. 

That night Lydia touched herself in over two months and came to the memory of the feeling of being on edge. 

The night after that she denied James, saying she was still stressed out from school and all the assignments they’d had. James nodded and settled beside her to watch some mind rotting romantic comedy.

Over the course of two additional weeks she denied him seven times more. On the eight James crossed his arms over his chest.

“What’s wrong? Have I done something? Other than accidently headbutting you in the face.”  
Lydia looked at him for a few moments. He didn’t show any signs of anger per se, just irritation and confusion. “No, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Well I must have. Because we don’t have sex-” the word sounded lumpy in his mouth. “-anymore. If it is because of last time, I’m so sorry. We won’t do it like that again.”  
Lydia’s heart sank. 

“I’m sorry, James. I’m just not into it right now. I think it’s time for my period,” She lied. It had come and gone last week. 

James deflated like a balloon. “No, I’m sorry. If I’d know you were going to have your p… your week, I wouldn’t have asked.”

Not for the first time Lydia felt a twinge of irritation towards James’ ignorance to the female body. 

“Hey, Pat is having a sick party next week. You wanna join?” James asked as he played with her hair. 

Pat, Patric Underwood, James’s best friend who called everyone dude, no matter gender. He was nice but Lydia didn’t hang out too much with him.

“Sure. Sounds fun,” she smiled. “Alcohol?”

James nodded.

The party was moderate. About fifteen people from school and the band Pat played with hung out in a forest by the graveyard. “The dead needs to get liven up,” Pat had joked as some girl named Rita asked. Lydia couldn’t help but feel like the people who were still in their graves preferred the quiet. Dead people didn’t always like the sound of life. Except… Lydia refused to think about Beetlejuice and shook her head.

Lydia wrinkled her nose to the too dry wine she’d acquired from her daddy’s cabinet. Beside her James had slung a loose arm over her shoulders and was chugging down his second beer. Then his third, fourth.

By the time Lydia’s second glass was empty she’d lost count on her boyfriend’s. He was loud but still gave her a sloppy kiss on her temple now and then. 

The cold crept closer and she felt her head spin a little as her wine bottle slowly drained. By midnight almost everyone had gone home except Lydia, James, Rita and Pat and his girlfriend who Lydia never remembered the name of. Something on B… Betty? Beata? Beetlejuice? Lydia giggled quietly. She wasn’t supposed to think about him, and yet she did. Naughty, Lydia. 

Once again Charles and Dalia were gone as Lydia stumbled through the door with James sagging behind her. When he didn’t step through, she turned around. 

“Are you coming or not?”

They ended up in bed. Lydia on her way to actually sleep. She’d brushed her teeth and put on a lace nightgown. As she turned off the lights, she felt a wandering hand on her inner thigh. 

“James,” she warned.

“Please,” he begged and drew himself up on one wobbly elbow.

“Not now. I’m going to sleep. you should too. We’re drunk, and you’re drunk as hell.”

As a surprise a pair of warm clammy hands gripped her wrists and pressed them into the pillow above her head. A lanky body, even more uncoordinated drunk than usual laid over her and between her legs.

“James, what the hell are you doing?” She spluttered.

He gripped her tighter. “Is it that I’m not good enough in bed. Am I not a bad boy enough for you?” James slurred slightly as he in, what he thought was a whisper, purred into her ear. 

“I don’t want to-”

James smashed his lips onto hers and in shock she opened her mouth to protest. His tongue flicked in and he humped between her legs in a quick and jerky fashion. 

“You wanted me to be rough. This is me rough, Lydia. Tonight, I will show you I can be rough.”

“James, stop!” 

Lydia was once again silenced by more teeth than lips. He didn’t listen. On one hand this was kind of what she wanted, a more controlling James in bed, but not this way.

His hands scraped up her body, hard enough to leave red marks. He pinched too hard and swallowed her cries as she tied to protest. His knees were placed under her thighs which hurt her lower back.  
Her hands were stuck, he was stronger than she’d realized. She couldn’t move. He was holding her there and she could barely breathe. Fumes of bad breath and alcohol almost turned her stomach. She tried to buckle but he wasn’t backing off. Her eyes looked towards the open door. God, let Barbara or Adam hear. She tried to scream but the loud noise only made James slap her. Not hard enough to do any damage but still enough to hurt.

“No screaming. You have to be quiet, sugarplum. Daddy’s gonna hear you otherwise.”

He breathed her straight in the face and she had to hold her breath, suddenly he put a hand over her throat. Hard. James swayed as he towered above her, very visibly drunk. To steady himself he unconsciously put his weight on the hand he had around her windpipe. She couldn’t breathe! She tried to jerk away, anything. Fuck, what could she do?!

James moved back a bit to open his fly. She gasped for air only to have it taken away from her again as he pressed his spit coated lips against hers once more. 

No one could hear her. Barbara and Adam couldn’t be called like Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice!  
As James switched again to press his hand against her delicate throat, she managed to get a tiny puff of air in.

“Was this what you wanted? Tell me you wanted this, Lydia. My little sweet bitch.”

For once Lydia couldn’t believe the words spilling from James. His eyelids heavy from arousal and alcohol.

“Beetlejuice-,” she managed in a raspy whisper. The rough fingers squeezed around her again as he grinded his sex against her clit. She was so dry it hurt.

“Yeah, Lydia, my sweet little fuck. I like when you say James like that. Say it again!”

For a few unfocused moments Lydia had to pause, had James heard wrong? 

“Beetlejuice,” she rasped again.

James stopped humping and gazed down on her. “What the fuck are you saying? I told you to say my name! What the fuck are you saying Beatles for?!” 

He ground down again in small but painful humps. As his arousal got higher, his grip around her neck got tighter. Stars danced in front of her eyes. Cold and heat was seeping into her from all angles. She could barely make out her surroundings. The feeling of cotton beneath her was slowly fading. James’s voice was far away. Fuck she needed to say it again, James was not in his right mind.

“Beetle…juice,” she tried. 

The world was drowning in black tar around her. She heard static and felt the humps growing faster. With little mental sigh she gave up. Beetlejuice was gone. She couldn’t call him anymore.

Then suddenly James was ripped from her. A massive chilling screech was coming from somewhere above. She impulsively threw herself aside to lean over the edge of the bed. As soon her lungs had air her stomach emptied itself on the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

Her room smelled like death warmed over. An enormous headache thundered in her head as she opened her blurry eyes. Her stomach twisted itself, but she could hold it down.

The sun was barely peeking over the treetops of the forest beside the graveyard, like it wasn’t quite brave enough to enter the world. Lydia counted her breaths while she laid still looking out the window. She couldn’t decide if it was beautiful or not. A clock was ticking in the hallway and there were countless of ticks before she pulled in a lungful of air.

The thick, moist alcohol drenched smell of vomit hit her in the face again. Fuck, she needed to clean it up. She needed to clean herself up. She could feel her nightwear bunched up under her back and her armpits. As she closed her eyes and swallowed the shadows of James’s hands ghosted over her frame. She pulled the blanket covering her tighter around her. 

When she opened her eyes again, she scrambled her courage together and moved to face James beside her on the bed. She sat up and saw the slumped figure laying, partally undressed in a heap of vomit in the corner of the room. 

James’s brown hair was cakey, and his ribcage looked blue but breathing. Lydia furrowed her eyebrows at the scene. If James was on the floor, then who the hell was in her bed?

Slowly she let her gaze travel up a pair of striped legs. Her heart started pounding, she knew that fabric, she knew those shoes. Fuck, she even knew that smell of death warmed over. As she reached his face her mouth was hanging open. 

“Beetlejuice…” she whispered.

“Ah, ah, ah. Careful with the B-word, doll. You already said it three times last night.”

She couldn’t believe it. He was slouching in her bed on top of the covers dressed in his usual striped suit. His hair was a wild mixture of red at the bottom going through green and ending in a bright yellow at the ends. In his left hand he had a coconut with an umbrella and pink straw and his left was behind his head, propping him up against the headboard. The rising sun cast the rays straight on his face. His eyes were covered by a pair hideously coloured Rey-bans.

While it undoubtedly was Beetlejuice he wasn’t quite as she remembered him. Had he always had a slight beer-gut? Had his hair always looked that full and soft? The moss on him seemed either reduced or redistributed but looking as smooth and fresh as ever. She slowly reached up and stroked that little patch she’d remembered. At least that was left.

As soon her fingers made contact with his dead skin he froze, stopped humming and slid his ridiculous glasses down his nose.

“Lyds?”

Immediately she withdrew her hand. She couldn’t speak. Her mouth opened and closed a few times. His voice was deeper, more like a growl, than she remembered, like a caged animal. Something in her hind mind reacted to it as he said her name.

“Babes, I know I’m a sight to behold but I’m bored and tired of waiting. What should I do?” The ghost asked.

For a moment she couldn’t piece together what he wanted, then she heard the soggy snores from James. What exactly happened last night? She could feel the edge of a hangover, the queasiness at the bottom of her stomach and the small threat of a headache. The back of her throat hurt. James had tried to have sex with her, and she’d called the ghost with the most, but the rest was blanc. 

“What happened?” She croaked; her voice blown. As she looked into Beetlejuice’s eyes she could see his pupils widen and grow darker in an unnatural way. Instantly she remembered that he wasn’t human.

“Well, your little side fuck here-” Beetlejuice motioned towards James. “-tried to rape you. Luckily, I got him off you.”

Lydia stared at the huge bruises at James’s torso. What the fuck? What had Beetlejuice done to him?

“How?”

The demon beside her pushed up his glasses again and smiled while sipping on a new drink in a coffee mug. “I scared him but then I saw you weren’t awake and just knocked him unconscious. I want you to watch, like old times.”

“But the bruises…”

“Well, babes. I had to get him away from you.”

Lydia suspected that those two ribs under the bluest bruise weren’t supposed to look like that. In her shocked, sleep addled and confused mind she couldn’t really comprehend this first minute of being awake.

“Did you have to be so brutal?”

The shift wasn’t subtle, suddenly the whole room seemed to drop in temperatures, Beetlejuice’s hair turned redder by the second. The bed started to shake and there was a low rumble from everywhere. BJ suddenly stood looming over James’s smaller body. The stripes on his jacket seemed to move like snakes and there were massive spikes growing from under BJ’s skin. With a voice taken from the deepest hell he spoke, “He tried to fuck my wife without consent!”

“Wife?!” Lydia yelled, embarrassingly in falsetto. “We’re still married?!”

Once again, the whole room shifted. Just as quickly as everything had grown unnatural it was back. Beetlejuice stood with his hands hanging by his sides and his hair shifted to a velvet purple. She was staring at him standing on her knees in the bed, he was looking sheepish. Lydia had never experienced such a thick silence that followed until he broke the spell.

“Yup, you’re Missus Lydia BJ Deetz. The BJ is of course my name. You’re all mine, baby.”

“But I killed you!”

“Didn’t revoke our union.”

It was so fucked up. Lydia fell back in shock, clasping the duvet with both of her hands. She thought it had nullified as she’d killed him. Fuck, fuck, fuck, she was still married to a dead guy.

Lydia swallowed. “That means…” 

“Yes?”

“That means I’ve been cheating on you…”  


“Yes,” Beetlejuice stated.


End file.
